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|Posted on September 3, 2012 at 2:10 PM||comments (8)|
I'm trying something new and I thought I'd get your feedback. As you know, I write romantic comedies. I'm a hopeless romantic at heart.
But, I was also born under the sign of Scorpio. Any of you fellow scorpians out there know we tend to like the mysterious, the unexplained, the spiritual world, tarot, seances, ghosts, and all that's spooky.
So, I had this dream that won't leave me alone and thought I'd make it into a story. I'm sharing it with all of you as it comes to me.
Here is where we begin:
The room was stark, the air filmy like a veil had been placed in front of his eyes. Mitch blinked. Shadowy figures moved about the room, he heard a murmering of low chatter, words too soft to decipher.
"Give it time, Mitch," he heard someone annunciate. "You're eyes will adjust."
"Who said that?" He rubbed his eyes with his fists.
His fists moved away from his eyes, his vision suddenly clear. A man sat at a broad, clean desk made of white marble. He looked like a cheerleader in a white turtlenecked sweater bearing a large red "H" on the chest. Where the hell was he?
A woman stood at the man's side, a tall thin blonde wearing dark-rimmed glasses low on an aristocratic nose. She too wore the foolish "H" adorned sweater.
"Where the hell am I?" Mitch bellowed, his voice ricocheting off the frosted glass walls. His eys scanned his surroundings. Everything was white and everyone wore the same damn sweater.
The blonde and the man at the desk shared a look. Her lips pursed and the man shook his head. "Now, Mitch, you sound grumpy."
"Answer my question. What is this place?"
"You don't know?" The woman asked, her airy voice feathered with doubt. She clicked her teeth.
"Romona, give him time. He'll remember."
"Remember what?" Mitch demanded.
"The accident," the man said as though Mitch were the crazy one.